Carnival of L'Amour
by ladybug28
Summary: Madeline was glad, for once, that Alfred had forced her to leave home. She could appreciate the view, at least. The carnival lights... The mysterious Frenchman.. Nyo!Franada. Little touch of USUK. AU. Human names used.


Carnival of L'Amour

For once, Madeline was glad she had left the house. Most of the time she had no reason to, so she just stayed home to watch a movie and eat pancakes. This time, her brother had practically forced her to go with him.

She supposed he probably worried about her. After all, she only had a few friends, some of which hardly acknowledged her. It bothered her sometimes, but never enough to really upset her. She was usually alone, which was why she was expected to go. It wasn't as though anyone would talk to her anyway. Now that she was here, she could at least appreciate the view from beneath the bleachers.

Alfred, when he forced her to go somewhere, left her to her own devices while he left to find his boyfriend. She didn't mind this, but when this happened, she had nothing to do. Football games, unfortunately, seemed to be where this happened most. She would get a hotdog and sit beneath the bleachers with a book. She had never been one for sports, unless you were talking about hockey. Tonight was an exception.

Tonight was the school's carnival, so the place was almost a literal zoo. Students milled about the parking lot, chatting with each other, in no specific direction. Carnivals were always lonely when you had no one to be with. The beautiful view only made her feel lonelier. From her spot, the ferris wheel's lights glimmered brilliantly under the moonlight. The lights of the surrounding booths lit the area around the wheel, making it a light show in her eyes. It truly was awe inspiring. It was almost funny how nice a high school parking lot could look.

A voice from her right made her freeze where she stood.

" It is magnificent, isn't it?" The voice was heavily accented, and she instantly identified it as French. The speaker, she found, appeared just as French as he sounded. Wavy blonde hair fell just past his faintly stubbly chin, and was tied in the back. His cheekbones were high, and long eyelashes brushed them when he blinked, momentarily hiding blue eyes that rivaled even her brother's. He was gorgeous, and she had no idea why he was talking to her.

" Oui," she stuttered back. He rose one sculpted eyebrow, surprised by the response.

" Do you go here?" he asked curiously. He was leaning up against one of the bars holding the bleachers up. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his blue jeans, and he had the grace of a model as he fished a cigarette pack from the pocket. She shouldn't have been talking to this guy. He could be a stalker, or a molester, or-

" Yeah," she answered, watching as he slid the cigarette between his lips and lit it. " You don't, do you?" He inhaled and blew a puff of smoke out through his nose, eyes slipping close.

" Non. I just graduated, from Cardinal Academy."

" Oh. Y-you really shouldn't smoke that, you know." she blurted out, unable to help the words. He seemed amused by her words, and laughed quietly. " Oh, yes. I know, but I'm afraid I've picked up the nasty habit. Gilbert, mon ami, calls it an addiction, instead. How unflattering a phrase. He makes it sound as though addictions cannot be good." He eyed her pointedly, and something about the tone he used made Madeline flush.

" D-do you know Gilbert?" she wondered aloud, pushing her glasses further up her nose. He smiled warmly at her, smashing the cigarette butt beneath his toe. " I do. We are very close. I take it that you, too, are his friend?"

Madeline bit her lip. " Sort of. We hang out sometimes in school" Indeed, Gilbert Biellschmidt was one of her friends who actually cared about her and made an attempt to hang out with her. She was almost eternally grateful for it. The Frenchmand held out his hand, grinning as he did so.

" I'm Francis. Francis Bonnefoy."

" Madeline Williams, eh."

She shook his hand, flushing even more at the contact. " Madeline is a very beautiful name," Francis told her quietly. " You know, I think Gilbert may have mentioned you. But he doesn't call you Madeline. It's usually 'Maddie', or-"

She interrupted with an uncharacteristic huff. " Birdie," she finished for him. " Yes," he said brightly. Gilbert had given her the nickname back in Freshman year after he overheard her singing. He had announced loudly that she reminded him of his pet canary and from then on the nickname had stuck. " So tell me why you are alone. Did your boyfriend not want to come?" Francis asked.

She shifted uncomfortably. He was going to think her pathetic once she told him why she was alone. He probably wouldn't remember her, though, to begin with. " Oh.. My brother forced me to come because he didn't want me to stay home alone tonight." she explained meekly. Madeline would have lied, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Francis, however, appeared more than a little shocked by her answer.

" Mon dieu! Really? Why would such a pretty girl, such as yourself, be alone?"

She had never been called pretty before. Her voice had, but she had not. She wasn't used to praise, and he seemed to realise this. " I just.. Don't have many friends. I never have." He shook his head sadly. " I just do not know why, Madeline, you are such a nice girl." Instead of answering, she turned back to the view. He was trying to make her feel better, and that almost made her feel worse. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him face the lights, as well. He propped his arm on the foundations, gazing at her and how the light highlighted he appearance

" I am serious, you know. Why is it so hard, do you think?" She was yelling in French before she even knew it.

"Je ne sais pas! C'est peut- être parce que personne ne se rend compte que je suis là. Je ne suis pa la peine. Je peux compter sur mes doigts le gens qui se rendent compte que je meme aller à l'école ici."

She wrapped her arms around herself; this made her feel horrible about herself. She knew Francis was trying to help her, but-

A hand gently touched her cheek, and she spun around to face him. He was now close to her, and if the fluttering in her stomach was any indication, she was very nervous about it. " Madeline, how can they not see you? They must! Perhaps they are too nervous to ask your name? I can tell you honestly that when I saw you here alone, I thought a great travesty had occurred." he told her. Why was he still here?

" Y- you just feel sorry for me. Why else would you be telling me this?"

" Parce que je pense que tu belle."

His hand moved down from her cheek to cup her jaw and her eyes widened before fluttering shut as his lips touched hers. He tasted like cigarettes and coffee, a surprisingly pleasant combination, and he was incredibly warm. He pulled away, then, and her eyes opened slowly. Francis watched her tentatively.

" Why..?" she asked dumbly, seeming to begin losing her high. He smiled in return. " Madeline Williams," He began, " would you do me the honor of joining me on a date?" Madeline's head swam at the question. Was he really asking her out? He had kissed her, she was sure of that, but had she heard him wrong? " Eh? Oh, oui." His grin widened at the response. He took her hands between his and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

" I am glad," Francis told her seriously.

" I- oui." She didn't think she would be able to come up with another response until she was out of his presence. He pulled a black pen from his pocket, and, holding the cap between his teeth, scribbled something on her hand. He'd.. Given her his number? She glanced at him warily. Was he being serious? In answer to her unspoken question, he held the pen out to her. With shaking fingers, she wrote her number on the back of his hand. She gave him the pen back quickly. This was just... so.. surreal. She just couldn't believe this was happening.

That was it!

This was a dream, it had to be.. It must be, she thought, watching as he began to walk away. He turned as he began to fade from sight and gave her a wave, waiting until she returned the favor. When she woke in the morning, Madeline knew, the writing on the back of her hand wouldn't exist. Neither would Francis Bonnefoy.

Except, when she did roll out of bed the next morning, the writing had smudged on her face from where she had fallen asleep, and there was a voicemail waiting for her.

" Bonjour! This is Francis Bonnefoy, from the carnival last night. I, ah, am looking for Madeline, if she gave me the right number. If this is her number, I am wondering whether or not she would like to go to lunch with me tomorrow. If so, please call back. Au revoir, mon cher!"

Madeline Williams smiled to herself, and pressed her phone to her chest.

AUTHOR"S NOTES

Hey, this is my first Hetalia fic, and I'm pretty proud. I hope I'll get all sorts of support in this! But for now, here are the translations:

**"Je ne sais pas! C'est peut- être parce que personne ne se rend compte que je suis là. Je ne suis pa la peine. Je peux compter sur mes doigts le gens qui se rendent compte que je meme aller à l'école ici." **

_"I do not know! That may be because no one realizes that I'm here. Pa I'm worth it. I can count on my fingers the people who realize that I even go to the school here."_

**" Parce que je pense que tu belle." **

_"Because I think you're beautiful."_

**" Au revoir, mon cher!"**

_" Goodbye, my dear!"_


End file.
